


Carriwitchet

by aces_mild



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Female Reader, Fluff, Friendship and shenanigans, Maybe some drama, Multi, Post Golden Ending, Reader Is Not Frisk, SO MUCH FLUFF, but it's what i feel like writing at the moment, but like not a ton, honestly I'm not sure what I'm doing with this yet, it's basically a coffee shop au, it's gonna be pretty episodic, plenty of comedy, so enjoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces_mild/pseuds/aces_mild
Summary: A little coffee shop au set a month or so after the golden ending.Your name is Beatrix, and you're a college dropout living with your grandmother. You work at her bistro, the Carriwitchet Cafe, and the two of you have tried to make it as welcoming as possible for the Monsters that have taken up residence in your cozy little town. When the first Monster-Owned restaraunt on Main Street opens up, you meet all sorts of interesting people...and you wind up getting attached. Sooner than you'd expect, you find yourself willing to do just about anything to keep them safe from other humans - even if it means putting yourself at risk.The world is changing. Can you afford to keep all your secrets?Short, episodic chapters that are more slice-of-life than anything else.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s an exceptionally slow day at Carriwitchet Cafe, and you’re bored out of your mind. It’s early afternoon, and yet your workspace is spotless, as you’ve had plenty of time to clean up between customers. You’ve done so much baking that the display case is nearly overflowing with pastries. With all the extra time on your hands, you finally changed that damn lightbulb that’s been flickering for a week, re-organized the bookshelf next to the couches so that it looks like a rainbow, and swept the worn wooden floor three separate times.

  
You just can’t stand to be idle.

  
You sigh, observing the empty tables, and grab the Windex, a roll of paper towels, and the stool behind the counter so you can clean the front window.

  
While you’re at it, you notice some activity across the street. Are those...bipedal dogs? You suddenly remember that the storefront was purchased by a Monster, which had been a pretty big deal.

  
You drop what you’re doing and rush to the stairs at the back of the cafe that leads to the small apartment you share with your grandmother.

  
“Hey, Gram!” You yell up the stairwell, “That new place across the street looks like it’s open!”

  
You hear some shuffling, and figure she’s peeking out the upstairs window to see for herself. “The flyer says it doesn’t open until tomorrow!” She yells back after a moment.

  
“Really? Oh…” You can’t help but be a bit disappointed.

  
“They’re probably just setting up.” Your grandmother comes to the top of the stairs, clutching a bright green crochet hook in one hand and multicolored yarn in the other. She owns the cafe, but she makes cute little stuffed animals on the side. Her Etsy page is pretty popular.

  
“Should I bring something over?” You ask, eager for something to do.

  
“If you want.”

  
“I do want!” You rush to the kitchen to grab one of the huge, fancy plates usually reserved for holidays. You take out the one with the cartoon beehive on it, figuring that it’s seasonally appropriate for spring. You stack the plate high with a couple of everything you made this morning - scones, muffins, tarts, cookies, and tiny pieces of cake. As you rush out the door, your grandmother takes a seat by the register, crochet materials scattered on the counter.

  
You cross the street to the new store - which you’re fairly certain is a bar. The sign overhead reads “Grillby’s.”

  
The door is propped open to let in some fresh air, so you poke your head in. “Yoo-hoo! I noticed you guys were setting up, and thought I’d stop by with some snacks!” You announce, standing in the doorway. You’re not sure if you should wait to be invited in.

  
The small shop is pretty packed with the dog-like monsters you saw from across the street. They’re helping set up tables, but they rush over when they see that you have pastries. You’re momentarily overwhelmed by a flurry of paws, wet noses, and exuberant thank-you’s. When they disperse, you set the near-empty plate down on a table near the door and walk over to the bar. There’s a fire elemental there, organizing bottles of booze on the back wall.

  
“Hey! I’m Beatrix. I’m from the cafe across the street.” You lean over the counter and offer your hand. He turns to look at you, but he doesn’t extend his.

  
“you’ll have to forgive Grillbz. he doesn’t do handshakes.”

  
You turn to find a grinning skeleton seated at the bar. You’re pretty sure he wasn’t there a second ago...then again, you were pretty distracted by the dogs, so you might’ve missed him. He’s holding one of your honey scones.

  
“Oh, no, it’s fine! So you’re Grillby, then?” You asked the bespectacled fire-man. He nods.

  
“he’s not much of a talker, either.”

  
You shrug. “That’s fine.” He looks busy, anyway. You decide to chat with the skeleton instead. “How about you, then? What’s your name?”

  
“me? i’m sans.”

  
“Nice to meet you!”

  
“same.” he takes a bite of the scone, and then looks at it in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting it to taste as good as it does. You can’t help but be a little proud of your baking skills. “you said you’re from the cafe? carri…?”

  
“Witchet!” You finish, a little too eagerly. You clear your throat. “Carriwitchet. I know, it’s a bit of a mouthful.”

Sans chuckles. “never heard that word before. what does it mean?”

  
“I, uh...have no idea. You’d have to ask my grandma. She owns the place.” He nods, and finishes the tart. “So, you all live here in Ebott Valley?” You ask, though you already know the answer.

  
“yep. goin’ on a month now.” he wipes his hand off on his blue hoodie. Ew.

  
“I hope haven’t had too much trouble settling in.”

  
He shrugs.“no complaints here. you guys have been...surprisingly hospitable.”

  
You know tensions between humans and monsters are still a bit high. There are some cities that won’t let monsters live there for one reason or another [mostly racism and misplaced fear, you figure]. Ebott Valley is different, though. Having been built in the shadow of Mt. Ebott, it’s a bit to the left of normal itself. So when monsters decided to move in, the humans that already lived there didn’t mind...much.

  
“That’s good to hear!” You’re relieved. Hearing stories of humans giving monsters a hard time makes your stomach turn. “Gram and I are super excited about there being a Monster-owned business on Main Street,” you continue.

  
“oh? why’s that?”

  
Was it just you, or did his smile change, ever-so-slightly? Oh no. You hope he doesn’t assume that you’re excited because it’ll be good for business. Sure, it’s true, but that’s hardly the point!

  
“Well, we’re doing our best to be as welcoming as possible, but Monsters have been staying away from Main Street. We’re hoping that this place will help them feel more comfortable! Like they can visit all the shops and not be…” You pause, thinking of all the reports you’ve heard of Monsters getting kicked out of human-owned establishments, and choose the next word carefully. “...hassled.”

  
You blink, and his grin is back to normal. “we’re kinda hoping for the same thing.”

  
You beam at him, then suddenly remember why you stopped by. “Oh! I was going to ask if any of you wanted some coffee? On the house, of course.”

  
He turns in his seat to look at the others. “eh, we’re not really a coffee crowd. the canine unit can’t have any, and grillby’s sworn off caffeine.”

  
“And you?”

  
“i’m all set, thanks,” he holds up a bottle of ketchup, and you can’t help but laugh.

  
“Suit yourself, then. Come on over if you change your mind!”

  
“sure thing, uh...beatrix.”

  
“Just Bea is fine.” You say as you head for the door, picking up the now completely empty plate on the way.

  
“oh, hey, before you go…grillby says you and your grandma should stop by for the grand opening tomorrow night,” Sans offers nonchalantly. Grillby turns to him, as if taken by surprise. The two share a look, and Sans shrugs sheepishly.

  
Ignoring the awkwardness of that exchange, you say, “we were planning on it!” Gram was excited to finally have a bar on Main Street. She was always complaining that ‘You can’t buy booze at a boutique’ or something similar. She wouldn’t miss the grand opening for anything.

  
“awesome. bea seein' ya, then,” he says with a wink.

  
You giggle, and wave goodbye to everyone as you head back to the cafe.

  
You walk through your own front door with a skip in your step. You’re humming, smiling...you feel the same way you do when you first catch the scent of spring in the air: refreshed.

  
Things are changing, and you’re excited to see what might happen next.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby's Grand Opening

Unsurprisingly, Grillby’s is even more crowded than yesterday. All the dogs are back - they greet you at the door, but are disappointed that you don’t have any treats for them. There are plenty of other monsters, most of them animal-like, with a few exceptions (there’s a slime wearing a baseball cap sitting alone in a booth). You and your grandmother make your way through the crowd, introducing yourselves. You get a lot of attention, and you figure it might be because they weren’t expecting any humans to show up. A jukebox in the corner is playing some jams from the 80’s, which Gram really enjoys.

 

You’re relieved to see that everyone else is wearing casual clothes. Gram tried to get you to wear your dress - that’s right, you only own one - but you went with something more true to your sense of style: jeans and flannel. No sense in pretending to be fancier than you are.

 

Gram, on the other hand, went all-out, wearing a loose blue dress with a floral print and way too much jewelry. She even has a fake flower in her hair.

 

The two of you take a seat, hopping up onto a pair of empty bar stools.

 

“We should do shots,” Gram suggests, nudging you in the ribs with her elbow.

 

You roll your eyes. “We’re not doing shots, Gram.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I’m not letting you get sloppy drunk in this _fine establishment._ ”

 

She flings her arms open, almost hitting the fish-man sitting to her left. “It’s a bar!”

 

“Nope. You’re having...I don’t know...rum and Coke?”

 

“Bleh.” She sticks her tongue out at you. She’s never been one to act her age.

 

“A spritzer?”

 

“Get me a margarita.”

 

“Fine. You can have one margarita. _One._ ”

 

You wave to Grillby as he finishes serving a duck monster their drink. He waves back, and walks over to you.

 

“Hey Grillby! This is my grandma!”

 

Gram laces her hands together under her chin. “Nice to meet ya, hot stuff! This is a nice place you got here...way better than that cruddy old diner,”

 

He does a little bow in way of thanks.

 

“He’s not very talkative, is he?” Gram asks, leaning over to you, but not really whispering.

 

“No, he’s not. But he’s very nice!” You smile at him, and he looks a bit flustered for a moment before gesturing to the drinks behind him. “Oh! I’ll just have a Bay Breeze. And Gram’ll have a margarita.”

 

“I can order my own drink!”

 

You roll your eyes. “We both know you can’t be trusted.”

 

“You never let me have any fun,” she complains, crossing her arms.

 

You can’t help but notice that Sans isn’t here. You feel a bit odd having arrived before the person who invited you, but you try not to worry about it too much.

 

You get about halfway through your drink before he finally walks in, accompanied by a group of monsters you’ve seen before on the news. They all take a seat in a booth by the front window.

 

“Holy cow, is that the Queen?” Gram asks, referring to the towering goat-monster wearing mom jeans.

 

“Shhh!” you lightly slap her arm, and she laughs.

 

“Which one’s your new friend?”

 

“The shorter skeleton.”

 

“Huh…” she mutters thoughtfully, taking a swig of her drink.

 

“What?”

 

“Oh, nothing...It’s just that the fish lady seems more your type.”

 

You take a better look at the blue-scaled fish woman, and realize that you’re grandma isn’t wrong. Her fashion sense is clearly on point, and very punk. Plus, you’ve always been inexplicably attracted to women who look like they could break your spine. But she’s holding the hand of a small lizard monster seated beside her, so you push the thought aside.

 

You smile and wave at Sans when you catch his eye, and he returns the gesture, turning to say something to his friends before making his way over to where you’re sitting.

 

“hey.”

 

“Hey,” looking down at him from your seat feels awkward, so you slide off your bar stool so you’re standing eye-to-eye with him.

 

“glad you could make it.”

 

“Me, too. This place has a really great atmosphere, now that it’s up and running.”

 

Gram clears her throat.

 

“Oh, this is my grandmother.”

 

“Etta Graham. Feel free to call me Gram. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“same here. actually, i had a question for ya.”

 

“Shoot!”

 

“what’s a carriwitchet?”

 

“Why, you’re askin’ one right now!” She says, laughing.  

 

You think she may have misheard. “What? No, Gram, he asked what it-”

 

“I heard ya! I ain’t deaf yet!” she glares at you, and you put up your hands in surrender. She turns back to Sans and explains, “a carriwitchet is an absurd, nonsensical question! Or a quibble!”

 

You and Sans share a look, and he asks, “what’s a quibble?”

 

“A play on words!”

 

“so, like a pun?”

 

“Precisely like a pun, my lad!”

 

Sans chuckles, then turns his attention to you. “so, i kinda told my friends about you, and they’re pretty excited to meet you.” he says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the booth. Your face heats up as you realize that everyone still seated there is staring at you.

 

“I can see that…”

 

“sorry. they’re not great at subtlety. if you’re not up for it, they won’t be insulted.”

 

“No, I’d love to meet them! Just...uh...one second.” You reach up to the counter and grab your drink, drain the rest of it in one gulp, and then hand the empty glass to Gram. “I’ll be right back. Do NOT order any more drinks.”

 

“Fine, fine. I’ll just keep the seats warm.”

 

You walk over to the booth with Sans, hoping that huge sip you took kicks in soon. You’re only good with crowds when it’s in the context of the coffee shop.

 

“everyone, this is bea. bea, everyone.”

 

“Hi!”

 

The taller skeleton stands in the booth and leans over the fish woman to grab your hand. “HELLO, BEA! IT’S VERY NICE TO MEET YOU! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”

 

“Papyrus! Get your arm outta my face!” the fish woman complains.

 

“OOPS. SORRY, UNDYNE.”

 

“You better be sorry!” she stands too, and puts Papyrus into a headlock. She keeps him there while she introduces herself, extending her hand. Her grip is so tight, it makes your fingers crack. “And this is my girlfriend, Alphys!” She releases your hand to place hers on the lizard-monster’s shoulder, who just waves. She seems just as uncomfortable as you are, maybe more so.

 

You turn your attention to the Queen, who does not offer her hand, but smiles at you warmly. “Hello, dear.”

 

“H-hi, your majesty.” you greet awkwardly.

 

She covers her hand and giggles, “Please, you may call me Toriel. I no longer consider myself to be royalty.”

 

“Oh. Sure, uh...Toriel.”

 

“Sans told us that you were kind enough to share some pastries with him and the others yesterday. How very generous of you!”

 

“HE CLAIMS THAT YOUR BAKED GOODS ARE EVEN BETTER THAN MUFFET’S. I DO NOT TRUST HIS SENSE OF TASTE, AS HE IS PRONE TO EATING SUB-STANDARD CUISINE, SO I WILL HAVE TO TRY THEM AND DECIDE FOR MYSELF!”

 

Oh, he did not just say that. You will not take an insult to your baking skills lying down! You put your hands on your hips and fix him with a glare. “I’ll have you know that my pastries will not only meet your standards, they will exceed them!”

 

Papyrus seems flustered, completely caught off guard. “I DID NOT MEAN TO INSINUATE…”

 

Undyne bursts into laughter, slapping him on the back. “Man, she sure told you!”

 

Sans has been silent throughout the exchange but seems highly amused by your interaction with his friends.

 

“I wouldn’t mind trying some, as well.” Toriel mentions. “I’m a bit of a baker myself, so I’m interested to see what other treats you have.”

 

You spend a good half hour talking baking with Toriel and explaining what crullers are before the group collectively decides they need your phone number.

 

“Oh, sure!” You reach into your jeans pocket, but find it empty. You suddenly remember leaving your phone on your bed. “Shoot, I don’t have it on me...let me run back over to the shop. I’ll be right back!”

 

You start heading for the door, but turn to Sans before leaving. “Can you just keep an eye on my grandma while I’m gone? She’s not exactly a responsible adult.” You feel weird asking him, but you know she’ll take advantage of your absence.

 

He shrugs, “sure.”

 

“Thanks so much. I’ll be right back!” You rush back over to the cafe, certain that nothing too bad could happen while you’re gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gram Graham is based on my great-aunt. She's...a handful at parties, to say the least.  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of an interlude. It's all I could get done today.

“I can’t believe you let my Grandma get wasted,” you say, closing the door to your grandma’s bedroom behind you and leaning against it. 

 

“i’m sorry...” 

 

“No you’re not. You’re smiling.” 

 

“i’m always smiling.” You roll your eyes. “she was already three shots in before I noticed,” he admits sheepishly.

 

**_“Three!?”_ **

 

“sorry…”

 

You’d left for a whole of five minutes, and when you’d returned, your grandma had been sitting on the bar using a half-full beer bottle as a microphone, singing along with the jukebox. The rest of the partygoers seemed absolutely thrilled, but you were mortified. Luckily, she’d only lasted for five and a half songs, and you’d been able to coax her down from the counter before she became completely incoherent. Sans had offered to help you bring her back to the cafe. 

 

You want to be mad at him, but you know how willful Gram can be. She’d taken full advantage of the situation. Besides, the whole event  **_had_ ** been pretty funny. Gram would get a kick out of it, once she woke up. And to think, she’d been worried about  **_you_ ** making a bad first impression! 

 

You sigh. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. She’s just...like that.” You push off the door and lead him back down into the storefront. “Tomorrow’s gonna suck, though. At work, I mean.” Gram’s hangover was gonna suck, too, but she’d live.  

 

“oh, shit...i, uh, hadn’t thought about that...is it really just the two of you?” 

 

“Yep.” You plop down in one of the armchairs, your legs hanging over one of the armrests and your head leaning on the other. 

 

Sans walks into the center of the main room, then stops. He stands hovering awkwardly between you and the front door, as if he feels like he should leave, but doesn’t want to. “and you both live here?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“well, at least it’s convenient.”

 

“Yep.”

 

He shuffles his feet around on the wooden floor. “...you’re mad.”

 

You’d been zoning out and staring daggers at the wall behind him, but seeing his grin morph into something closer to a frown is enough to draw you back into the conversation. “What? No, no, I’m just...distracted. Trying to figure out how I’m gonna manage the morning rush…”

 

“i could stop by and help out,” he suggests, taking a small step toward you.

 

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

 

“sure you can. i mean, it’s my fault you’ll be by yourself.”

 

You think about it. He has a point. “Yeah, that’s true…”

 

“and i’m not busy. i’m, uh...between jobs right now.” he scratches the back of his skull. There’s a story there, but he seems a bit embarrassed about it, so you don’t ask. 

 

You hesitate. You barely knew this guy. Sure, he’d been nothing but nice so far, but...was it really okay to ask him for help like this? You know that without the extra help, you’ll be too busy taking care of customers to bake, and the majority of your regular customers come for the baked goods and not the coffee. Having an extra set of hands would make things so much easier...maybe, just this once, it would be okay to ask for help. After all, he was offering, right? 

 

“...Just for the morning.”

 

“i could stay later if you need me to.”

 

“Just. The. Morning.” You say the words firmly, but not in a mean way. “Be here by six.” 

 

“you got it, bea,” he says, backing towards the door. “or, uh, boss.”

 

You hold up a finger. “No. I cannot stress how much I am not your boss. I’m not even qualified to be  **_my own boss_ ** , let alone yours.”

 

He laughs. “got it.” He’s halfway out the door, but still hesitating for some reason. “see ya tomorrow.” 

 

By this point, your head’s lolled back as far as it’ll go, so you don’t say anything. Instead, you give him a thumbs-up. You watch him through the front window as he heads back to Grillby’s. You must fall asleep for a split second, because you don’t actually see him cross the street. One moment he’s in front of the cafe, and the next he’s opening the door the Grillby’s. 

 

“Geez, I must be way tired,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. You stand, walking to the door without lifting your sock-covered feet, and lock it. You think about heading up to bed, but...you’re really not feeling those stairs right now. Instead, you collapse onto the lemon-print couch - the only one long enough for you to stretch out on - face-down and somehow manage to fall asleep with your jeans on. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans's first day on the job. Bea still does most of the work, but she's happy to have him around.

You’re woken by the sound of your phone frantically buzzing against the floorboards. God, is it 5:00 am already? You groan, the sound muffled by the bright yellow pillow your face is firmly planted in. You roll your head to the side to look for your phone, and see that it’s on the floor next to the armchair. It must’ve fallen out of your pocket while you were talking to Sans. 

 

Your phone continues to vibrate, and you stare at it with bleary eyes. Your whole body feels heavy. Standing up and walking over to it seems impossible, so you roll off the lemon-print couch and land heavily on the carpet. You keep rolling until you’re able to reach over and pick it up, and you turn the alarm off. You stare at the ceiling for a few minutes. 

 

“You have to get up.” You say out loud to yourself. “You have to.” The urge to fall back asleep, right there on the floor, is overwhelming. You summon all your energy and lurch into a sitting position. You swing your arms onto the chair cushion and pull yourself up. “Why does this have to be so hard…?” 

 

You drag yourself across the room and go behind the counter. The display case is mostly empty - you tend to run out of pastries by the time you close up shop - but there’s a single, small piece of honey cake left. You reach in and grab it with your bare hands, tilt your head back, and shove the tiny slice into your mouth all at once. Not exactly the breakfast of champions, but it’ll be enough to kick-start your day. 

 

You stand up straight, cracking your back in several places. You’re still in your outfit from last night, so you suppose the first thing you should do is go get changed into your work clothes. 

 

Carriwitchet Cafe is a pretty casual place, so the ‘uniform’ is just black jeans and a golden polo shirt. You wear an orange honeycomb-pattern apron (which Gram got you for your birthday) over it. Once you’re dressed, you head back downstairs into the kitchen and get started on baking.  

 

At ten after six, you hear a knock on the glass. You let out a sigh of relief when you see that it’s Sans. You’d started to worry you’d be on your own after all.

“Hey!” you greet, inviting him in. “You actually showed up.”  

 

“you didn’t think I would?” 

 

You re-lock the door, since Carriwitchet doesn’t technically open until 7. “Well, we kinda just met two days ago, and we’ve only had a handful of conversations, so I figured it could go either way,” you explain. 

 

Sans shrugs, “that’s fair.”

 

You hand him a plain black apron to wear over his blue hoodie. “You know how to work a register, right?” 

 

“yup.”

 

“Ok, great, here’s the plan.” You lead him back behind the counter. “You sit here, take orders, man the register. I’ll do literally everything else.” 

 

“i think i can handle that.” He’s already put on the apron, and he looks a bit at a loss without anywhere to put his hands. 

 

You decide to give him a tour of the place, as well as a quick run-down of how to use the different coffee machines, just in case you get caught up in the kitchen and need him to fill a few orders. You’re kind of impressed by how quickly he picks up on it, especially since he claims to have never worked at a coffee shop before.  

 

By the time 7:00 am rolls around, you feel confident that the two of you will be able to manage the rush. You prop open the door and let in the spring breeze, ready to take on the day.

 

\--

 

For Carriwitchet Cafe, the ‘morning rush’ is less of a line out the door and more of a consistent inflow of two or three customers at a time. It’s never overwhelming, but it is constant. By 9:00 am, you’re really glad you decided to take Sans up on his offer. He’s a real pro at customer service, and you get the feeling he has more experience than he let on. 

 

A few of your regular customers seem put-off at first, seeing a monster behind the counter instead of you or Gram, but he wins them over easily with friendly conversation and a few well-timed jokes. You even find yourself laughing from time to time, despite the stress. 

 

Your time is split 70/30 between the counter and the kitchen, with no time for breaks - just the way you like it. No time to stop and consider how tired you are. You are, however, constantly snacking on your own pastries. Not even you can resist them. 

 

At 11:00 am on the dot, a familiar face walks in. It’s Papyrus, looking a little bashful as he makes his way to the counter. You think at first that it’s because he’s getting some sideways glances from the other patrons, but it turns out you’re the one making him nervous.

 

“GOOD MORNING, BEATRIX. I WANTED TO APOLOGIZE FOR MY COMMENT YESTERDAY. I NEVER MEANT TO INSULT YOU, OR YOUR SKILL. PLEASE, ALLOW ME TO MAKE UP FOR IT BY PURCHASING A FEW OF YOUR SURELY DELICIOUS TREATS.” 

 

“Oh, geez, don’t even worry about it! I wasn’t actually insulted. I just take baking very seriously, is all.” 

 

“no kiddin’. trust me, bro, nothing bea does is  **_half-baked_ ** ,” Sans comments from his seat behind the register. You laugh, but Papyrus seems annoyed. 

 

“ **_SANS!_ ** I’M TRYING TO MAKE AMENDS WITH OUR NEW FRIEND! NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR YOUR PUNS!” He pauses, and seems to notice his brother for the first time. “WAIT.  **_SANS???_ ** THIS IS WHERE YOU’VE BEEN ALL MORNING? I THOUGHT YOU WERE STILL SLEEPING.”

 

Sans shrugs. “Nah. Bea  **_kneaded_ ** an extra set of hands, so I decided to  **_rise_ ** to the occasion.” 

 

“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU, BROTHER!” he leans over the counter and pulls the shorter skeleton into an uncomfortable-looking hug. “I HOPE YOU AREN’T MAKING HER DO ALL THE WORK!”

 

“He’s been very helpful,” you assure him. “I’d be in over my head without him.” You give Sans a heartfelt smile.

 

He turns away and rubs the back of his skull. “Heh...Happy to help.” 

 

You put together a box of pastries - one of each that you’d baked that morning - and send Papyrus on his way. He apparently has some very important business to attend to, though he doesn’t elaborate. 

 

Around noon, things finally start to slow down, and you decide to let Sans off. 

 

He seems hesitant, and a bit disappointed. “you sure you don’t need me to stick around?”

 

“Yep! You’ve been a huge help, but I got it from here.” 

 

He shrugs, and starts to take off his apron. “if you say so. i’ll be over at grillby’s if you need me. but before I forget, you never actually gave us your number last night.”

 

“Oh, shoot...I completely forgot!” You’d been too busy trying to get Gram under control. “Here, give me your phone.” 

 

He hands it to you and you plug in your number. You tell him it’s fine to share it with his friends, since they were the ones who asked for it in the first place. 

 

After he leaves, business hits a standstill, and you can’t help but feel a bit lonely. It’s been a while since you spent quality time with anyone outside your family. You love your little brother and Gram, but you have to admit that you need some friends. 

 

You sincerely hope that this isn’t your last interaction with Sans. Maybe you can convince Gram to hire him on for real. That might help other monsters feel more comfortable in the cafe, right? To see one of their own behind the counter? You make a mental note to mention it to Gram later as you take a bite out of a sugar cookie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First mention of Bea's baby brother. He'll be more involved in the plot later on.   
> Had some trouble with the second half of this chapter. I'm not too pleased with how it turned out, but it's good enough for now. I'll probably edit it a bit later.   
> I'm like...way ahead of myself here. I have so many little episodes/events planned out. Hope y'all like them.


	5. Floralia - Part 1

It’s only been about a week since Grillby’s Grand Opening. You’ve been chatting with Sans via text, but haven’t brought up the job offer just yet. You’re not his boss, Gram’s the one who has to hire him. 

 

You’ve seen Papyrus pretty much every day. He prefers phone calls to texts, but you so rarely have the time to pick up, so he stops by Carriwitchet to talk to you instead. Conversations with him always leave you with the warm fuzzies.

 

You haven’t had a chance to stop by Grillby’s since it’s opening on account of the festival. Ebott Valley holds the Floralia Festival in the middle of spring each year to celebrate...nature? Flowers? Something like that. You’re always too busy preparing delicious baked goods for the festival-goers to think about much else. 

 

Every year, the Ebott Arboretum is decked out in pastels, the parking lot filled with booths selling trinkets and food, and the garden is host to all kinds of games and activities. 

 

This year, the human population put a lot of effort into making it inclusive for Monsters. They invited the (in)famous Muffet to serve magic pastries [which differ from yours in that they’re made entirely out of magic], planned several crafts involving bullet patterns, set up a scavenger hunt, and even built a hedge maze.  

 

You arrive at 9 am to start setting up your tent. You brought along flower-themed cupcakes and sugar cookies. Gram is back at the cafe preparing more treats for later in the day. 

 

You watch as humans and Monsters alike arrive at the Arboretum. Looking around, you figure the turnout is pretty evenly split, which surprises you. Normally Monsters are hesitant to show up to human-run events. At least, they have been in the past. It’s not long before you figure out why there are so many in attendance.

 

The King of all Monsters, Asgore Dreamurr, arrives at 11:00 am, accompanied by Toriel, Papyrus, and a small child. The King seems positively delighted, stopping to sniff every flower and gaze lovingly up at every tree. Toriel, on the other hand, seems slightly miffed and fusses over the child’s hair. 

 

Papyrus spots your tent and waves enthusiastically. He leans down to speak to the child, who signs something. Papyrus grabs the child by the hand and rushes over to you. 

 

“GOOD MORNING, BEATRIX!” 

 

“Morning, Papyrus. Who’s your friend?” you ask. You can only see the top of the child’s head over the table. 

 

Papyrus puts his gloved hands under the child’s arms and lifts them so that they are eye-to-hair-covered-eye with you. It looks a bit uncomfortable for them, but they’re smiling anyway. 

 

“THIS IS MY OTHER HUMAN FRIEND, FRISK! THEY ALSO HAPPEN TO BE THE AMBASSADOR.” 

 

Oh, right. You’d seen them on tv a few times. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, oh esteemed Ambassador!” Despite the awkward position, Frisk offers you a hand, which you gladly shake. “Would you like a cupcake?” They nod vigorously and wiggle until Papyrus puts them down. “You can go ahead and pick whichever one you want...but only one, ok?” Frisk smiles, and points to a cupcake you’d decorated to look like a sunflower. You hand it to them with a napkin, and they run off back toward the two towering monsters.

 

“MY BROTHER WANTED ME TO TELL YOU THAT HE’LL BE BY A LITTLE LATER,” Papyrus mentions, taking a napkin and picking a cupcake covered in little red geraniums. 

 

“I’ll be here.” The festival won’t end until the sun sets. “What’s he up to, anyway?” You ask, a bit worried that he’d gone and found himself a job before you’d had the chance to ask. 

 

“NOTHING, AS USUAL. HE JUST COULDN’T GET HIMSELF OUT OF BED THIS MORNING. HE’S SUCH A LAZYBONES!” He stomps his boot-clad foot, and you can’t help but laugh. You’d gotten the impression from previous conversations with the tall skeleton that his brother didn’t do an awful lot unless it involved Grillby’s. 

 

“Y’know, I talked with Gram, and she thinks it might be a good idea to hire a monster to work at the cafe. If Sans is still looking for a job, he could-”

 

“THAT’S AN EXCELLENT IDEA! HE SEEMED QUITE CONTENT THERE THE OTHER DAY. BUT...ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO HIRE HIM? HIS WORK ETHIC...ISN’T THE BEST.”

 

You shrug. “Neither is Gram’s, but we get by just fine.” 

 

“AS LONG AS YOU’RE SURE! I’LL MENTION IT TO HIM! AND MAKE HIM FILL OUT AN APPLICATION! AND IF IT DOESN’T WORK OUT, YOU CAN ALWAYS HIRE ME INSTEAD!!” 

 

“Don’t you already have a job?”

 

“YES! I AM THE AMBASSADOR’S OFFICIAL BODYGUARD AND EQUALLY-OFFICIAL BEST FRIEND! IT’S A POSITION I TAKE VERY SERIOUSLY. BUT YOU ARE ALSO MY FRIEND, AND I WANT TO HELP YOU AS WELL, IF I CAN!” 

 

“Aw! Papyrus, you’re so sweet, you’re gonna give me diabetes.” 

 

“I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THAT IS!”

 

\--

 

Sans doesn’t show up until well into the afternoon. By that point, Gram has arrived with backup pastries, and you’re well on your way to sweating your brains out. 

 

You’re a bit disappointed when he doesn’t come over to your tent right away. He sees you, and waves, but disappears into the crowd without saying anything. 

 

“I think I like the other one more,” Gram mutters. “Better manners.”

 

You shush her. “Don’t play favorites!” and go back to arranging sugar cookies. 

 

“I can pick a favorite if I want! It’s not like they’re my kids.” She wipes her hands on her apron, streaking the white fabric with multicolored icing. “Besides, you’ve already picked a favorite,” she points out, jabbing a finger in your face.

 

You swat it away, glaring at her. 

 

“hey.” 

 

You jump, and turn to find Sans standing on the other side of the table - and he’s not alone. Asgore stands next to him, so tall that he has to duck to fit into the tent. 

 

“Hey! Long time no see.” 

 

“heh, yeah, sorry ‘bout that. i’ve been meaning to stop by, but i’ve been, uh...busy.” Even he doesn’t seem convinced by that excuse. Asgore gives him a sympathetic look. “anyway, this is asgore. i’m sure you’ve seen him in the news.”

 

“Yeah, of course! It’s an honor to meet you, your majesty! I’m Beatrix.” You bow awkwardly, not sure what else to do.  

 

The King laughs. “Now, now, there’s no need for such formalities! Just Asgore is fine.” he turns to Gram and smiles, “And am I correct in assuming that you are the owner of the Carriwitchet Cafe?”

 

“Sure am! Etta Graham. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Asgore.” She reaches out a food-coloring-stained hand. 

 

Asgore shakes it without hesitation, holding it delicately in his huge furry paw. “The pleasure is all mine!”  

 

Asgore takes a cupcake that resembles a melted hydrangea and leaves the tent, probably so he can stop slouching. 

 

“so i heard you have a job opportunity for me?” Sans asks as he considers the remaining cupcakes.

 

“Oh! Yes. I guess Papyrus told you about it already?”

 

“yup. in detail.” 

 

You briefly wonder what he means by that, since you don’t recall giving Papyrus any actual details about the job. “We kinda thought that having a monster working at the cafe would make other monsters more comfortable there. What do you think?”

 

He thinks for a moment. “i think it’s  **_sweet_ ** of you even worry about that. seriously, though, it’s a good idea. people are more likely to stop by if they see someone they know.” he carefully selects a blue rose cupcake. "any paperwork i need to fill out?”

 

Gram makes a disgusted noise. “We can sort all that boring nonsense out later.” 

 

“nice. when do i start?”

 

“Right now!” Gram exclaims. There’s a long pause, and Sans looks almost panicked. “...Just kidding! Ha, shoulda seen the look on your face! You can start whenever. But for today, just relax and enjoy the festival!” 

 

He lets out a sigh of relief, and you laugh just a bit at his expense. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not very fluffy, but the next one will be! Bea doesn't really know how to chill, so Frisk helps her have some fun!   
> If you want random information regarding my creative process, check out the blog I set up for this fic. https://www.tumblr.com/blog/aces-mild-fics  
> There's some other stuff there, from previous works, but it's mostly related to this fic now.


	6. Floralia - Part 2

Gram places both hands on your back and physically pushes you out from behind the table. “Shoo! Go frolic, or whatever it is you errant youths do at festivals!” she continues pushing you until you’re outside the tent, standing in the parking lot.

 

“pretty sure errant youths don’t attend festivals,” Sans comments, following behind her with his hands in his pockets.

 

“Yeah, or else Felix would be here.” The jab comes out more bitter than you intended.

 

“You have a point.” Gram considers your words for a moment. “Fine! Go do whatever it is that  _ wholesome, upstanding  _ youths such as yourselves do at festivals.” She turns back to the tent, shouting, “AND I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU BACK HERE FOR AT LEAST AN HOUR, YOU HEAR ME, BEA!?”

 

Oh, good, now people are staring. “Got it, Gram.” You stand around, clenching and unclenching your fists. God, you’re bad at relaxing. 

 

“so. got anything specific in mind?” 

 

Anything in mind? Nope. Your mind is currently short-circuiting. What you  _ want _ to do is go back to the tent and be productive, but you know how Gram would feel about that, and you’d rather not meet the business end of her baseball bat. Not after what you’d seen it do to her ex-husband’s car. You start to fidget with the skirt of your dress.

 

“bea?” Sans puts a hand on your shoulder - tentatively like he’s not sure you’ll be cool with it. 

 

“Sorry, I just...I don’t usually take part in things that happen on this side of the counter. Or...tent? Table? Whatever, you know what I mean.” 

 

He shrugs. “well, we’re in the same boat, then. cuz i’ve never been to one of these before either.” He starts walking towards the main garden, and you fall into step beside him. When you can’t find anything to say, he keeps talking. “not too many flowers in the underground, y’know? asgore had a pretty decent garden going, but...nothin’ like this.”

 

“It’s pretty impressive that he was able to grow anything underground.”

 

“yeah, well, he happened to find the only spot in the entire underground where the light came through from the surface.” 

 

“That’s lucky. What kind of plants did he grow there?”

 

“just one kind. these little yellow flowers.” He chuckles. “i say little, but...they can actually get pretty big. apparently, they came from up here.”

 

Big yellow flowers capable of growing underground? You’re pretty sure you know the exact kind of flower Sans is talking about. Everyone in Ebott Valley is familiar with those annoying little pests. They’re an invasive species, big surprise, and they’re  _ everywhere. _ Their seeds stick to everything, and the flowers themselves are hardy enough to grow in even the least hospitable conditions. The arboretum’s been waging war on them since it opened.

 

Huh. You realize that humans see them the same way they see Monsters. You decide not to mention that bit to Sans. You tell him the rest, though.

 

The two of you take a small dirt path away from the crowd, following it into a stand of trees, and eventually reaching a pond hidden in the shade. Almost all of the plants along the trail are labeled. You’ve never taken much of an interest in flora, but Sans stops to look at just about everything. 

 

He makes his way over to the edge of the pond to get a closer look at one of the few plants that don’t come with their own plaque. 

 

“whattaya know about these?” He asks you, out of nowhere, gesturing towards a stand of cattails. 

 

“I know they’re called cattails, but other than that...nothing.”

 

“nothing?” 

 

“Uh, no?” why do you feel like you’re walking into a trap?

 

“that’s...kinda surprising.”

 

“Look, plants aren’t really my area of interest, Ok? Just because these things are everywhere doesn’t mean I have to know about them. I mean...you lived Underground, right? In a big cave? So go ahead and tell me everything you know about rocks.” You take a guess and hope he doesn’t end up knowing a shitload about rocks. 

 

He falters. “uh...they make great pets?” you laugh, and he puts up his skeletal hands in surrender. “point taken.” he reaches out and pulls off one of the seed pods. “we have these - or something like ‘em - in the underground, too. we call ‘em water sausages. y’know…’cause you can eat ‘em.”

 

“They’re edible?”

 

“Sure.” he holds it out to you, as if offering you a bite. 

 

You take it from him, part of you wanting to find out what it tastes like, but...you’re pretty good at telling when someone’s messing with you. Growing up with a little brother and living with a remarkably immature grandmother made you a pro at picking up on other people’s dubious intentions. And Sans’s perpetual grin looks suspiciously wider than usual…

 

Then he really slips up by failing to hold back a laugh. You narrow your eyes at him. “You know what? I’m not hungry,” you tell him, and toss the seed pod over your shoulder. 

 

“damn. almost had ya.”

 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to pull one over on me.” 

 

“challenge accepted.”

 

Suddenly, you hear racing footsteps approaching from off the beaten path, crunching through several years’ worth of fallen leaves.

 

It’s Frisk! But Papyrus doesn’t appear to be with them. They run up to the two of you, and hug Sans around his waist. When they pull back, they sign something.

 

“heh, i wish.” in the shade of the trees, you can just make out the palest of blue flushes on Sans’s cheekbones. In a moment, it’s gone, and Frisk signs something else. 

 

You make a mental note to learn sign language so you can understand them. In the meantime, Sans seems happy to translate. “the kid wants to show you something.”

Frisk takes your hand with both of theirs. Their hands are sticky - probably from the dozen or so tiny vials of bubble solution stuffed into their pockets.

 

“Why do you have so many bubbles?” 

 

They sign something. 

 

“they’re holding them for a friend.” 

 

Ah. You assume they belong to the armless lizard child you saw them playing with a bit earlier. 

 

Frisk drags you off the hiking trail through the fallen leaves. You worry for just a second about getting lost, but the two if you just wind up on another path, this one circling a small field of multicolored flowers. 

 

Oh, there’s Papyrus. He’s laying down in the middle of the flowers, twiddling his thumbs and restlessly adjusting his long, bony legs. He doesn’t seem to be very comfortable. Frisk pulls you to him, and he raises his head. 

 

“AH! FRISK! THERE YOU ARE. I WAS BEGINNING TO WORRY YOU WEREN’T COMING BACK. DID YOU FIND MY BROTHER?” he sees that Frisk is holding your hand. “OH! EVEN BETTER!! WELCOME TO THE FLOWER PATCH, BEATRIX. FRISK AND I ARE PARTAKING IN AN ACTIVITY CALLED “CLOUD-WATCHING.” PLEASE, JOIN US!”

 

“Quick! Frisk, check it out! That one looks like Temmie!” The armless lizard sits up from the flowerbed, having been completely hidden by the blooms a moment ago. He gestures towards the sky with his nose. “...Well...it did...but now it looks more like a slime…”

 

Frisk lays down in the flowers and gestures for you to join them. You’re not too keen on doing so in your sundress, but...you’ve never been good at saying no to kids.

 

The four of you [Sans must’ve gotten left behind] watch the sky for a while. 

 

“That one looks kinda like a coffee cup,” you point out. 

 

“That one looks like moldsmal wearing a hat! Awesome!” 

 

“THAT ONE LOOKS LIKE A PLATE OF DELICIOUS SPAGHETTI!”

 

“that one looks like a cloud,” Sans says from directly to your left. 

 

You wonder why you didn’t hear him approach through the flowers. He looks remarkably comfortable, unlike his brother, with his hands behind his head and his legs crossed at the ankles. He winks at you.

 

“SANS! YOU HAVE NO IMAGINATION!” 

 

You can’t really say how long you spend like that. It’s certainly out of your element, but...for some reason, you completely forget about your obligations. It’s probably for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting this to be three parts, but it just got too long. Besides, I wanted to post something today, and I'm nowhere near done writing the last bit. It's all just outline notes...  
> Comments are always appreciated! I love hearing from you guys.   
> Got questions? Comments? Predictions? Chat with me over on tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/aces-mild-fics  
> it's not exactly fancy, but I'm on tumblr pretty much all the time, so it's the best place to get a hold of me.   
> See y'all Monday with the next chapter!


	7. Beach Episode - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy did anybody say time-skip? I did. I said that. There’s been a time skip. The last chapter took place mid-May, and this one takes place in early August. It’s safe to say Sans has been working regular hours at the Carriwitchet Cafe since then. I just couldn’t force myself to write cafe-themed shenanigans, so you get summertime shenanigans instead. I just reworked the standalone chapter I posted like, a week ago, and made it longer, fluffier, and just all around better. Hope you like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening:   
> 1\. Saltwater Room [Owl City]  
> 2\. Atlantic [Sleeping At Last]

When Toriel extended an invitation to the beach house that she had purchased, Gram was quick to take her up on it. She’d always wanted a beach house, but hadn’t been able to afford one, and probably never would. You’d asked, quietly, if the two of you should pitch in at all - bring food, or maybe pay rent for the time you stayed there - but Toriel had stubbornly refused. She was offering the same to all of her friends, a fact you later confirmed with Sans during his shift. He and Papyrus had been invited, as well, and were planning on spending a few weekends there. 

  


“that is, if i’m allowed to take the time off.”

  


You take a break from wiping down tables to shoot Sans a look. “Pfft, of course, goofus. Gram and I are probably gonna take half a week to spend there, ourselves, so the cafe’ll be closed.”

  


“Make it a whole week!” Gram shouts from the kitchen. 

  


“Gram, we run a business. Please, try to think about this responsibly.”

  


“No! It’s summer! We should be living it up!” Gram rushes into the cafe space and grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you gently. “You  **_especially_ ** should be living it up! Throw a wild party! Set something on fire! Have a one-night stand!  **_Act your age_ ** !”

  


You wiggle free from her grasp and go back to cleaning tables. “I can’t. One of us has to be the adult here.”

  


Gram pouts and walks over to the counter where Sans is seated. She leans over and half-whispers, “you’re a bit of a trouble maker, aren’t’cha, bones? I’ll give you twenty bucks to get her involved in some hijinks and shenanigans while we’re at the beach.” 

  


You roll your eyes. “Gram, no.”

  


Sans considers the offer. “hijinks  _ and _ shenanigans? hmm...make it fifty and we have a deal.”

  


“ **_Sans_ ** !”

  


Gram waves him away, feigning aggravation. “Forget it! Who knew a skeleton could be a  **_skin_ ** flint?”

  


Sans laughs, but you must’ve missed the joke. What’s a skinflint, anyway? 

  


“i’m just messin’ with ya, granny. since you were kind enough to hire me, i’ll get bea here into all kinds of trouble...free of charge.” 

  


“Ha! I’d like to see you try.” You put your hands on your hips and declare, quite proudly, “My alignment is Lawful Good.” 

  


“More like lawful  **_boring_ ** !” Gram shouts. “This ain’t ‘Demons and Disasters!’ You can be out of character for a few days and have a little fun.” You know that she knows it’s Dungeons and Dragons. She’s just trying to get a rise out of you...but it’s not going to work this time!

  


“If you insist that I should act more like you while we’re on vacation, I think it’s only fair if you act a little more like me, too.” You suggest. 

  


Gram narrows her bright green eyes at you. “You say that like you think I can’t do it.”

  


“That’s because I  **_know_ ** you can’t,” you say, placing both hands on the counter.

  


Gram mirrors you on the other side, and Sans leans as far away from the both of you as he can without getting off his stool.

  


But Gram can’t hold it in. She starts laughing, and admits, “you’re right! You’re too boring. What would I do? Read a book? Collect shells?  **_Be sober_ ** ? I’d rather kick the bucket here and now. Save me some suffering!” She disappears back into the kitchen, still laughing at the absurdity of it all. 

  


It’s your turn to pout. “I’m not boring, am I?” You ask Sans.

  


He shrugs. “i’m not really the right person to ask. first thing i’m gonna do at the beach is take a nap.”

  


“Ha! And she expects you to get me into trouble? You’ll be too busy being unconscious.”

  


“if she’s not happy with the results, i’ll give her a full refund.”

  


\--

  


You and Gram arrive at Toriel’s beach house pretty late on a Wednesday night. Papyrus’s bright red convertible is already in the driveway, so you know they beat you there, probably driven by the younger brother’s obsession with punctuality. Undyne, Alphys, Frisk, and Toriel herself wouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow. 

  


You’d learned that Asgore had paid for half of it, but apparently wasn’t planning on spending any time there. It was a shame, since you’d kinda grown to like him from your interactions at the Carriwitchet Cafe. He was quite impressed by Gram’s selection of herbal teas! 

  


The two of you settle into one of the bedrooms on the lower floor with a bed big enough to fit you both...at least, in theory. 

  


Too bad Gram is a kicker. By two am, you’ve been pushed out of bed and onto the floor. 

  


Grumbling, you grab a pillow and make your way upstairs to the sitting room to camp out on the couch. You’re not that tired, anyway. If you need to, you can always join Sans for a nap at the beach. 

  


But no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get comfortable on the non-lemon-print couch. You can tell it’s one of those fancy couches that’s not really made to be used, just looked at. Who puts that in their living room? Oh well. You give up, and decide to take a late-night walk on the beach. It’s been a while, but you’re familiar with the area, so you’re sure you won’t get lost. 

  


You leave a note on the kitchen table and take one of the house keys, but pause on your way down the stairs. You’re in your pajamas, and you feel like you should put on something extra over your green tank-top and avocado-print sleep shorts. Except...that’s what a careful [boring] person would do. And you’ve decided you’re not gonna be boring!

  


You, uh, still put on a bra, though. For modesty’s sake.

  


You leave your flip-flops behind at the place where the pavement meets the sand, and make your way over a small wooden bridge over the sand dunes. On the other side, you walk a little ways towards the ocean, but stop. Your feet are buried in the sand, which is still warm from the sun even at this late hour. You forgot that it could hold onto that warmth for so long, and you just stand there for a minute, feeling comforted by it. 

  


“bea?” you jolt, and spin around at the voice, your heart leaping into your throat...but only for a moment. Then you’re just left laughing at yourself, because, well...  

  


A skeleton perched on top of the dunes in the middle of the night, form obscured, eye sockets dark, and skull illuminated by the moon? Kinda spooky.

  


Your friend, Sans the skeleton, losing his balance and sliding down the sand dunes on his ass, wearing his usual hoodie and track shorts and mumbling curses under his breath? Significantly less spooky. You laugh and reach out a hand to help him stand. 

  


“Dude, why didn’t you take the bridge?” you ask, pulling him up. 

  


“took a shortcut.” 

  


“Pretty shit shortcut, if you ask me.” 

  


“i, uh, didn’t realize those weren’t solid,” he admits. He uses his free hand to brush sand off himself, but he’s still holding yours with the other one. He doesn’t seem to notice, and doesn’t let go when you do. Maybe he still feels unbalanced? 

  


There’s a beat of silence before he notices your hands, and quickly lets go, shoving both of his into his pockets. But you’re not really paying attention to his hands. No, it’s his face that has your attention.

  


Because it’s glowing.

  


That same blue tint you’d seen across his cheekbones before lights up nearly his whole face in the dark, making him look like a skull-shaped cyan nightlight. 

  


“Oh! So that’s what that is,” you say, out loud, without really meaning to. 

  


“what?”

  


“You’re blushing.”

  


His cheeks glow just a bit brighter. “you have no proof of that.”

  


“You’re kidding, right? It’s pretty obvious, dude.” you reach out and poke his cheek, making it worse. “That’s adorable.”

  


Sans just groans, pulling his hood up over his head and taking a few steps away from you. 

  


“Relax, Sans! It’s just us. No reason to be embarassed!” you reassure him. He doesn’t respond. “...Look, I’ll leave you alone about it. But you have to tell me why you followed me to the beach, deal?”

  


His blush fades, if only slightly. “i was awake, and heard you leave. figured it might not be safe for you to be out here by yourself.”

  


“Aha.” you hadn’t really considered the safety of what you were doing. You’d done this a ton when you were little, and nothing bad had happened. Looking back, it might not have been the best idea… “Thanks. I appreciate the company.”

  


“no problem.”

  


There’s another moment of silence between you, and you break it by suggesting, “why don’t we go walk by the water?” it’s where you were gonna go anyway, with or without him. He seemed content to just follow along, falling into step beside you. By the time you reach solid, packed-in sand, he’s no longer bright enough to be a functioning flashlight, which is fine, because the nearly-full moon is more than enough light to go by. 

  


“So this is the first time you’ve ever been to the beach?” 

  


“yup. not much sun n’ surf underground.”

  


“I bet not,” you grumble. You purposely avoided asking what it was like down there. You didn’t want to dredge up any unwanted memories. “It’s way different during the day. Crowds, gulls, sunshine...most people either love it or they hate it.”

  


“what about you?”

  


You nudge him with your shoulder. “Why do you always ask the hard questions?”

  


“‘cause you bring ‘em up?”

  


“Fair enough, I guess...I have strongly mixed feelings.”

  


“you’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

  


You tilt your head back, looking up at the sky and considering your answer. “Well...I love some things. The warmth of the sun on my skin, the feeling of swimming in the waves, the sight of seagulls overhead, the smell of sunscreen…”

  


“...but…?”

  


“But there are other things I can’t stand. Like...sand. I hate sand getting everywhere, and I hate getting sunburn, and seaweed getting stuck in my hair...Seagulls are assholes up close, too.” Sans is laughing, apparently amused by your frustration. “Seriously! One time, a seagull stole a whole-ass sandwich from me. The whole thing!  **_Right out of my hands_ ** ! They’re the worst.” 

  


“ok, i’ll be sure to keep an eye socket out for sand, seaweed, and seagulls,” he says, counting them off on his hand. “i think I’m safe from sunburn, though.”

  


“Yeah. You’d need skin for that to be a problem.” You think for a moment. “Can your bones bleach?”

  


“uh...dunno. too much sun exposure has never been an issue.”

  


“True, true...besides, you look pretty bleached already.” 

  


“what cant i say? i’m naturally pale.” he says with a shrug.

  


The two of you laugh, and there’s a long stretch of comfortable silence. Then, you see something in the surf nearby, and rush over to it before the next wave can sweep it away. It’s a sand dollar! Score! You show it off to Sans.

  


“so, it’s money?”

  


“No, more like a collectible. Like shells and stuff.”

  


“and you just found it on the beach? did someone throw it away?”

  


“No, it came from the ocean.” you turn it over and show him the other side. “It’s the outer casing of a living creature. Some kind of barnacle, I think. This is where it’s mouth would be…see, when they die, their shells get emptied out, and sometimes wash up on the beach. Same happens with seashells…”

  


“why’s it called a dollar, then?” 

  


“Probably because human dollars used to be coins. Still are, in some places.” You let him take it so he can look at it closer, holding it carefully in his bony hands. “It’s probably worth way more than a dollar. They’re a pretty rare find.”

  


“no kiddin’...” 

  


“Not sure you could get anyone to buy it from you, though, so don’t get any ideas!” You chide jokingly, knowing his tendency to try and sell people literal garbage. 

  


A breeze goes by, and you’re left with a bit of a chill from your wet legs. You pull your arms in close and rub them for warmth. 

  


“eh, it’s your find, anyway. wouldn’t be right for me to sell it.” He goes to hand it back. “oh. hey, you cold?”

  


“Nah, I’m good.” You take the sand dollar from him. Your chill will pass. It has to! It’s gotta be over seventy degrees out! 

  


You start walking again, keeping your eyes glued to the waterline, hoping you’ll find another cool thing to show Sans. 

  


“here, bea.” Before you can turn to face him, Sans drops his jacket over your shoulders. The worn blue fabric isn’t terribly warm, but it’s enough to keep the hair on your arms from standing on end. 

  


“Aww, goofus, you don’t have to...but I’m glad you did.” You pull your arms through the sleeves. Glancing at his face, you see that it’s glowing slightly again. You reach out a hand to poke his cheekbone...   

  


But Sans grabs it before you make contact. “stop, seriously.” He’s trying to keep a serious tone, but he’s chuckling at your antics. “i can’t hide it anymore. if you keep makin’ fun of me for it, i’ll be bright enough to see from space.”

  


“I think that’d be pretty  **_stellar_ ** .”

  


There’s a beat of stunned silence that you revel in before he bursts out laughing and lightly pushes you away. 

  


You suck at puns, so you never make any...but that was a really good one! You’re glad he can appreciate it, but you start to lose your appreciation when he rattled off a few dozen of his own, shifting from space-themed to beach-themed to your-name-themed. Does he spend hours brainstorming these, or are they a spur-of-the-moment thing? Either way, it’s impressive and also very annoying. 

  


Eventually, you’ve had enough, and you sprint away from him towards a lifeguard chair. You know he won’t bother running to catch up to you, so you’re safe for a few moments. Well, you think you are, anyway.

  


“c’mon, don’t bea like that!” he yells after you, and you make sure to groan loud enough for him to hear.  

  


You start climbing the lifeguard chair, but by the time you reach the top, Sans is already there. You roll your eyes. “Really?” He winks, and offers you a hand, which you happily take. 

  


This time, you’re the one who doesn’t let go. You keep a hold on his bony hand even after you’re seated comfortably next to him. I mean, why not? His feelings about you are pretty obvious. And you like him, too, even if you’re not as obvious or easily flustered about it. 

  


He just looks at you for a while, his usual grin mixed with confusion. You smile at him reassuringly. 

  


His face is still pretty flushed, though it’s all in his cheekbones now instead of being spread over his whole face. “this is...okay?” he asks. His hesitation makes sense, since you were the one who let go before. 

  


“Yup!” 

  


“oh. okay. cool.” he doesn’t seem to have much else to say. Or maybe you just caught him off guard? In any case, you put a stop to his awful puns. 

  


For the next few minutes, waiting for some of the tension to settle, you scan the horizon. Thanks to the moon, it’s easy to see where the ocean stops and the sky begins. Honestly, you’re a bit disappointed. You much prefer when the sky is indistinguishable from the sea, and the whole expanse of navy blue is endless and mesmerizing. 

  


You gaze slowly drifts up, searching for constellations until your neck is bent back over the chair, and you’re staring straight up at the Milky Way above. There’s another thing that would look a lot more impressive if the moon wasn’t so full, you think. Sans seems completely enamored with it, though. You look over at him, and see that his sockets are wide, taking it all in for what you realize might be the first time. Ebott Valley’s sandwiched between two big cities, so the light pollution blocks out most of the stars. 

  


You let him just...soak it all in. You’d hate to ruin the moment for him. But...well, after a while, you can’t help but let out a yawn. He turns to you, looking just slightly more relaxed than usual, his blush long since faded. Now the tiny points of light in his eyes are the brightest thing on him. 

  


“why don’t we head back?” he suggests, even though he doesn’t look tired at all. 

  


You nod, and let go of his hand so you can stretch. You stand, and, climb down the lifeguard chair. By the time your feet hit the sand, Sans is already there, his hand reached out to you. You take it once more, this time lacing your fingers with his, and you don’t let go until you’re back at the beach house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case y'all were wondering, skinflint is a pretty old insult referring to "a person who would save, gain, or extort money by any means." I thought it was funny, and pretty fitting, for Sans.   
> Yes, I’m aware that Bea is incorrect about Sand Dollars being related to barnacles. A marine biologist she is not. Sans won't hold it against her, and neither should you!  
> I want to make it clear that absolutely no citrus of any kind will occur on the lemon couch. It’s called the lemon couch because it is a couch with a lemon pattern. It’s terribly gaudy and right in front of a window, and therefore not well suited to citrus-scale activities. This has been a PSA.


	8. Beach Episode - Part 2

You wake up again just as the sun rises. It’s barely seven, and you know that Toriel and Frisk aren’t going to arrive until closer to nine...but you brought along all the ingredients for muffins, and you’re gonna make some, dammit. It’s the least you can do, since Toriel isn’t letting you pay her to stay at her beach house.  

 

You expect getting up to be a fight, like it always is, but you’re surprisingly well rested considering where you slept and the fact that you only did so for a couple of hours. You’re curled up at one end of the couch, and Sans is stretched out on the other. He doesn’t stir when you get up and make your way to the kitchen on the other side of the large open space that constitutes the second floor of the beach house. 

 

You’re still wearing his jacket, but you don’t want to get it dirty, so you remove it and drape it over one of the kitchen chairs so you can get started on the muffins. The oven takes a little figuring out, since it’s one of those fancy “smart” ones. Even so, the muffins are done by the time Papyrus wakes up. 

 

You hear him rattling around downstairs. It sounds like he’s on the phone with someone. It isn’t long before he joins you in the kitchen. He’s wearing a backward baseball cap, a Hawaiian shirt, and solid red swim trunks. Somehow, he makes it work. You try to shush him before he wakes his brother, but Papyrus only laughs [very loudly], assuring you [very loudly] that Sans could sleep through just about anything. 

 

Papyrus informs you that Undyne and Alphys are already at the beach. They apparently went directly there, which makes sense, given how excited Undyne’s been to see the ocean. He takes some of your muffins in a plastic container, saying that Alphys probably neglected to eat anything of substance for breakfast, and rushes off to meet them. 

 

Gram makes her way upstairs not long after, complaining about the noise. 

 

“It doesn’t seem to bother Sans,” you mention, though you’re still not sure how he slept through his brother’s speech on the importance of a balanced breakfast.  

 

“Of course it doesn’t bother him! He doesn’t have ears!” She sets about making a pot of coffee. The beach house is equipped with its own keurig, but Gram just glares at it while she makes herself “a real cuppa joe.” 

 

You’re not as picky. Coffee’s coffee and all coffee is good coffee, in your opinion. You wonder if two cups’ll be enough to keep you awake all day? You doubt it. 

 

Both your phone and Sans’s buzz at the same time, and you look to see that Toriel sent you both a message. “We r 10 mins away” Oh? Must be Frisk. Toriel’s a stickler for spelling, even via text message. Good to know she isn’t texting and driving, at least. 

Gram watches the oven while you get changed into your bikini. You pull your hair into a messy bun and throw on some worn jean shorts and your oldest, most faded flannel, which you don’t even bother to button. You’re trying to give off ‘chill beach babe’ vibes. Besides, you’re just gonna take it off later, anyway. 

 

Finally, Toriel’s minivan pulls into the driveway. You and Gram greet them warmly, offering coffee and muffins. Toriel chides you both, insisting that you didn’t have to bring anything...but then immediately eats a muffin whole, so you don’t feel especially bad about it.  

 

Frisk jumps on the couch and wakes Sans up. His ability to sleep through things is pretty impressive, but even he can’t ignore a whole human child sitting on his chest. As he sits up, he seems...well, you’re not entirely sure. There’s this look on his face you haven’t seen before. He makes eye contact with you across the room, and you smile. He just waves, a little half-heartedly, as Frisk drags him off the couch. 

 

Frisk signs something. You pick up ‘go to,’ ‘sun,’ and ‘glasses,’ and you figure they’re telling him to go get ready for the beach. Sans grabs his jacket from the back of the kitchen chair, grabs a muffin from where they’re placed on the counter, and heads downstairs without making eye contact with you. While the group is waiting for him, you ask Frisk to teach you how to sign some beachy words. 

 

\--

 

When you get to the beach, you’re surprised to see just how many monsters are present. You guess it’s because this is the closest beach to Mt. Ebott. It almost looks like humans have started avoiding this particular section of the shoreline. You and Gram get a few sideways glances, but your presence is mostly overshadowed by Toriel being there. She’s the queen, after all...or, she was. 

 

But for right now, she’s just a mom on a mission: get Frisk covered in sunscreen before they wander off. From the way they’re acting, it’s like this is their first time at the beach, too. 

 

Sans helps by agreeing to be buried in sand, which at least keeps Frisk away from the water for a few minutes while the sunscreen dries. It doubles as an excuse for him to not move for a while. 

 

You kind of want to take advantage of that. He’s been distant, and you want to make sure you didn’t overstep any boundaries. But before you can adress the issue, he’s already asleep again. Figures.

 

“Did you put on sunscreen, dear?” Toriel asks you. “I have some...extra.” She sure does. It’s all stuck in the fur on her hands. 

 

You know she’s just offering to be kind, but you have to suppress a shudder. “No thanks. I put some on back at the house.” Besides, you have to use the real strong stuff, or your sensitive skin will fry. 

 

Gram wastes no time in getting herself in the water. She swims past the waves with her donut-themed inner tube and just...hangs out, casually sipping her booze of choice from a hot pink flask that has the words “probably not coffee” on it in fancy cursive lettering. Knowing her, it’s probably rum, and she’d probably snuck a whole damn bottle into the cooler with everyone’s lunches. Rum was just about the only drink that you both liked, so you hoped she was ready to share. But...not quite yet. It was still a bit early in your opinion.   

 

You consider swimming, but honestly, you’re more in the mood to just relax in the sun for a while and warm up first. You take off your jean shorts but leave the flannel, and grab your phone. 

 

You lay down on the beach blanket next to Alphys, who’s been sitting and taking pictures of Undyne on her phone since you got there. You can’t blame her. It looks like Undyne bought a wakeboard at the boardwalk, and she’s actually pretty good with it. She’s really in her element, with the seawater glistening on her scales, and that confident expression... 

 

Okay, enough of that. You force yourself to stop watching. She’s very much your type, but she’s also very taken. Plus, you might have a thing with Sans. Maybe. You’re not sure? But it doesn’t matter, because the last thing Undyne needs is another girl sweating over her. Alphys has that more than covered. 

 

You roll over onto your stomach, propping your head up on a rolled-up towel, and pull up a beachy playlist on your phone. You’re still not quite tired enough to fall asleep, so you just relax for a while. After about ten songs, you feel the blanket shift on your other side, and you feel someone tap your shoulder. It’s Sans, miraculously un-buried. He mimes taking out the earbuds, and you remove one. 

 

“mind if i join you?”

 

“Sure,” you answer without hesitation but realize that there really isn’t enough room for him. Luckily, Alphys is swimming with Undyne now, so you scoot over. He lays down on his back, puts his arms behind his head, and closes his eyes. He’s left as much distance between the two of you as possible, but its a step in the right direction. You’d still like to talk to him, though, but...not here. Not with Toriel sitting three feet away, reading “101 Ways to Cook Snails.” 

 

When you put your earbud back in, sleep comes to you pretty easily.

 

You wake up a while later, when Gram slathers some more sunscreen on the back of your legs to keep them from burning too bad. It wouldn’t be enough to wake you if you weren’t super hungry. Is it lunch already? 

 

You go to sit up, and notice that a couple of your fingers are overlapping with Sans’s. You’re kinda surprised that nobody’s said anything about it, since they’re all gathered by the beach chairs for food. They probably assume it was an accident. It was, but...well, if you didn’t intend to get up, you might make it look more purposeful. 

 

Just as you get up to get your lunch from the cooler, Papyrus strikes a pose, lifting his sandwich over his head...and promptly loses it to a Seagull. He stares at his empty hand for a moment. 

 

“WHAT.” 

 

You and everyone else [except for Sans, who’s still sleeping] can’t help but crack up. Undyne laughs so hard she falls out of her beach chair.

 

“That’s what ya get, big guy. Seagulls are opportunists,” Gram says nonchalantly from her chair. 

 

“IT...IT STOLE...RIGHT OUT OF MY HAND…” 

 

You pat him on his arm, since you can’t quite reach his shoulder. “I know the feeling, Papyrus. Why don’t we go get you something up at the boardwalk?” 

 

Frisk jumps up, having already finished their meal, and signs ‘ice cream’ about a dozen times. It sounds good to you, but you make sure to get the go-ahead from Toriel, just to be safe. She agrees, and gives you some money. 

 

The three of you make your way over the dunes to the boardwalk, where there are, to your knowledge, more ice cream shops than you can count. But both Papyrus and Frisk seem to zero-in on a nearby cart instead. 

 

“Nice cream?”

 

“YES! THE FROZEN TREAT THAT WARMS YOUR HEART! IT WAS QUITE POPULAR IN THE UNDERGROUND,” Papyrus explains.

 

As you approach the cart, the vendor, a blue rabbit monster, greets Frisk warmly. “Well, if it isn’t my best customer! Long time no see!” he says, before handing you each a popsicle in a red-and-yellow wrapper. You ask for a few more, wanting to bring some back for the group. Everyone gets nice cream, whether they like it or not! 

 

But honestly, you can’t imagine anyone not liking it. It’s your first time trying it, but the sweet, tangy, refreshing flavor is absolutely delicious. Yours is half-gone by the time the three of you return to the others. Frisk hands out nice cream to Toriel, Alphys, and Undyne, and you toss one to Gram. 

 

You sit back down on the beach blanket and nudge Sans awake, offering him one, as well. 

 

“oh. thanks.” he opens the wrapper carefully, not wanting to tear it. “i used to get these all the time. that guy...can’t remember his name...he set up a cart right near one of my stations. it was more convenient than heading all the way back to snowdin…” He reads the wrapper and slips it into the pocket of his swim trunks.  

 

You purposely sat a little closer to him than before. When you’re done eating, you toss your wrapper and the popsicle stick into the nearby trash bag Gram brought along. Speaking of…

 

“Hey, Gram?”

 

“Whattaya want?”

 

“Rum.”

 

She lifts her sunglasses to glare at you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You meet her glare with a non-plussed expression until she relents and digs through her purse and tosses you a tiny bottle. 

 

“I really wish you were better at sharing.”

 

“I really wish you’d stop bumming drinks from me.”

 

You twist off the cap and drink the whole thing in one go. It’s not a lot, but you don’t really plan on getting drunk anyway. You lean back on your hand and it brushes against Sans’s. 

 

He pulls his away abruptly, and mutters, “sorry…”

 

You freeze, your mouth still full of rum. Sorry? Why is he sorry? You swallow, toss the now-empty bottle into the trash, and stand. You reach out your hand to Sans. “Let’s go for a walk.” 

 

He hesitates, but seems to pick up on the fact that you want to talk. He doesn’t take your hand, instead choosing to stand on his own. “sure.”

 

The two of you fall into step together, walking by the water the same way you had the night before. Sans’s hands are in his pockets, and he seems tense. Does he think you’re angry at him? Why would you be angry? You’re a bit frustrated at how difficult it is to read his expression. You’re usually pretty good at picking up on the subtle changes. 

 

“so...what’s on your mind?” he asks, once the two of you are a decent distance from the others. 

 

“I just want to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.” 

 

“what? why wouldn’t i be okay?”

 

“You’re acting distant. If you want me to back off, I will, but you have to tell me.” You pause, but he doesn’t say anything. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me. I realize that my behavior last night might’ve seemed a bit...out of the blue. I’m not great at expressing my feelings, but...I do like you, you know. Right now, it’s mostly platonic, but-”

 

“that...actually happened?” 

 

You stop walking. “Uh...yeah? Did you forget, or something?” 

 

He raises his hands, “no, it’s not like that, i just…” he scratches at the back of his head. “...sometimes my memory isn’t the greatest. not in a forgetful way, i just...especially late at night, i tend to...it’s hard to tell the difference between what’s real and what’s…” you can tell that he’s having a really difficult time trying to explain this to you, and he’s getting kind of worked up over it. 

 

You reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. The bare bones are smooth against your skin, warm from the sun and humming slightly with magic. “Relax, Sans. I’m not mad. I want to understand, y’know? But if it’s too hard, I get it. Why don’t you just...tell me what your thought process was?”

 

He takes a deep breath [somehow] and tries again. “nothing between us seemed different this morning. you didn’t say anything, or do anything different. you weren’t wearing my jacket anymore, and there really wasn’t any proof you’d been on the couch, either, so i just assumed...that i dreamt it? nah, that’s not really right, but...it’s the best explanation i’ve got.” he shrugs, at a loss.  

 

You think it over. “So what you’re saying is...you need proof that things have changed, or you’ll assume that they haven’t?” 

 

He nods. “if i can’t be sure, i prefer to play it safe.”

 

“Sounds reasonable.” You move your hand from his shoulder to his hand, and lace your fingers with his. “If reassurance is all you need, I’ve got you covered.” 

 

“that’s fine for now, but...this is definitely gonna happen again. it happens all the time, just ask paps.” he seems defeated, his hand going limp in yours and his eyes cast to the ground. It’s as if he expects you to give up on him. 

 

But you really want this to work, so you try to come up with something that will make things easier. “Ok...well...how about we find something of mine that you can have? Something you can keep on you, to remind you that things are different when I’m not around?” 

 

“that...could work. it would definitely help.” 

 

You get an idea, and start pulling him back toward the others. “I think I know exactly what it should be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one took me a while, and I'm not quite happy with how the first part turned out. Might come back and change it later. Also, I was a bit rushed, so let me know if you find any mistakes, kay? Your feedback means a lot.
> 
> Next Time on Carriwitchet: explaining a new relationship to friends and family is always an awkward experience. more rum? probably. gram brought plenty. also romance-flavored boardwalk shenanigans.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3


End file.
